Distraction
by laynee
Summary: After a few weeks of hard jobs, both boys are in need of some time away from the evil. Sam's ended up with a migraine from it all. Changed/shortened, maybe continue later. Limp Sam! Good guy Dean.
1. Long Time

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

-/\-SN-/\-

Dean tossed a few bills on the table to cover the bill. Another meal, another diner, another town that he couldn't remember the name of – not that it mattered. Their gear was stowed in a nearby motel and they had an evening open. Both Sam and Dean were exhausted. It had been two weeks of nearly constant gigs, and not the easy ones either, the ones that demanded every ounce of their strength and knowledge. They had avoided major injuries, but there were more than a few new bruises, cuts and stitches. Dean knew that Sam was nursing a few bruised ribs, even if he didn't say anything about it. They needed a few days of nothing, nowhere to go and nothing that needed to be handled. Sam hadn't even bothered to open the laptop in the past two days.

Sam ran a hand across his eyes and swallowed the last of his coffee. "Ready?"

Dean nodded and stood. They went out to the car, the night air cool enough that Sam zipped his sweatshirt up. Though both could have happily gone to bed, neither wanted to turn in at seven. Dean caught sight of the distant, obnoxious neon sign of a bar and knew that's where he was going, maybe he could convince Sam to relax a little.

"I'll play you a game of pool, loser buys drinks." Dean fished the keys from his pocket.

Sam looked over and followed Dean's eye line to the Bar. "You round then?"

Dean smirked and got in the car, Sam a few seconds behind him. He pulled into the parking lot of the bar. Even though it was a Thursday, the lot was half full. Apparently the bar was the only thing to do in the town. He looked over at Sam as they climbed out, the kid looked relaxed for the first time in, well, in too long.

They walked in the door and were greeted by the standard small town bar; a haze of cigarette smoke, a few battered pool tables, dark corners, neon beer signs and a jukebox playing mostly oldies and country. Unconsciously both Dean and Sam relaxed slightly, as though a bar wasn't really part of the outside world.

Dean automatically caught sight of two local girls at a corner booth as Sam racked the pool balls. Sam knew his brother's plans and smiled a little to himself. They played like they were playing for money, but mostly they played as though their only focus, their only concern was getting that ball into the pocket.

Sam's skills were better than Dean remembered, but then again, he couldn't remember the last time his younger brother had played a game. There was something wrong with that, Dean figured, yeah, they had a job to do, but there had to be something else. _All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy._ Hell, even the psycho in The Shining knew that.

Sam won by distraction. One of the local girls got up to get another drink and Dean forgot about pool for a moment. He scratched on the eight, Sam won by default, though he'd make sure to rub it in Dean's face later. Dean went up to the bar and got a beer for himself and for Sam.

Dean passed the bottle to his brother. "I'm going to mingle." His eyes were on the girls.

"Have fun, Cassanova." Sam smiled.

"I could throw your name in, see what comes of it." Dean looked at his brother.

Sam took a drink. "Wouldn't want to mess up your game."

"Not possible." He paused. "All right, you wait here, I'll wave you over in a few minutes."

"Okay."

Dean smiled and walked over towards the girls. Sam watched from across the bar, a smile on his lips for the first time in more time that he'd care to count. It was nice, having a night where the only things they had to do was drink beer, play pool and pick up girls. No ghosts, no demons, no monsters, they could pretend to be normal guys.

Sam watched his brother lean on the table, he had the girls laughing at something he said. The blond was trying harder than she had to, Sam almost felt sorry for her wasting all the effort. Dean stood and glanced over at Sam, that was his cue.

He walked over and leaned against the back of the booth. Dean pulled the blond up by her hand, she giggled as he led her away. Her darker haired friend smiled sweetly at Sam.

"Cassie's always picked up guys easy." She took a drink.

"Sounds like the girl version of Dean."

She laughed. "I'm Amy."

"Sam."

"Would you like to sit with me, Sam?"

He smiled and sat across the table from her. He took a drink.

"So, Dean said that you're just passing through."

Sam nodded. "We don't really stay anywhere very long."

Amy reached across and took Sam's hand. "That's all right with me."

He smiled and took another drink of his beer. A sharp pain pierced at his temple for a second and then was gone.

"I wish I was just passing through here." She sighed.

Sam refocused on Amy, tried to ignore the slight headache. "How long have you lived here?"

"Not long, just my entire life." She smiled and took a drink. "It's all right, but it's small and nothing happens. Ever."

A few spots of light flashed in his vision and the pain upped a notch. Weariness washed over him and despite how nice Amy was and how much he wanted to be with her, sleep was overruling everything else.

Amy noticed him pale a little. "Are you all right?"

Sam unconsciously brought a hand up to his temple. "Just a headache."

She met his eyes. "Maybe you should call it a night."

"I couldn't just leave you. I'm fine."

She took his hand again. "I have to work tomorrow anyway. Go get some sleep and call me if you're doing something tomorrow." She slipped a business card into his hand.

"I feel like a jerk leaving." He muttered with a smile.

"How about if I walk you out, then we'll be leaving at the same time. I'll tell Cassie that I was with you and you can tell Dean you were with me. Nobody loses."

"Okay."

Sam stood and dizziness washed over him. He searched the bar for Dean and saw him in a back corner. He and Amy walked towards them. Dean looked up as Sam approached.

"I'm heading back."

Dean smirked and tossed the keys to Sam. "Have fun."

"You don't need the car?"

Dean smiled as Cassie walked her fingers up his leg. "I'm good here."

"See you tomorrow, Cass." Amy smiled and took Sam's hand.

Sam and Amy walked from the bar into the cool night. The air cleared Sam's head a little and he took a slow breath. He walked Amy to her car.

She pulled her keys from her pocket. "Call me sometime?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

She shrugged. "I've been on you end of a set-up, I know you're not just flaking out on me." She feigned serious." Are you?"

"No." He smiled a little. "It's just been a long week."

"That's what I figured." She climbed in the car.

Eighty-three Mustang, Dean would have approved.

"What about your friend?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "She'll either get a ride or call me in three hours. Doesn't really matter." She looked at Sam, noticed how much paler he seemed outside, the way he tried to pretend he wasn't in pain. "Get some rest and call me."

"Yeah." He really intended to.

"Maybe get some coffee or something, the bar isn't really my scene."

"Mine either." They both smiled a little at the connection.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Night." He took a step back from the car.

She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Sam watched her go before he went over to the Impala. He climbed behind the wheel and leaned his head back. The dull ache and become a dull throb and the lure of sleep was stronger than before. He took a breath and turned onto the highway.

He parked in front of their room and tripped slightly on the curb. He unlocked the door and stumbled over a bag in the room. He left the keys on Dean's bag and eased onto his bed. He kicked off his shoes and let himself sink into the pillows. He thought that maybe he should take something for the headache before he fell asleep, but sleep was too quick.


	2. End of Good

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

-/\-SN-/\-

By the time the bar was closing, Dean was on the buzzed side of drunk and Cassie was just drunk. She took his hand and pulled him to the back.

"Where are we going?" Dean whispered, a stupid smile plastered to his face.

"Storage room." She opened a door. "My uncle used to own this place."

Cassie pressed her lips against Dean's and he pulled her close.

-sn-

Dean slipped into the room, sobered up to the point where sleep was the only thing he wanted. He kicked off his boots, pulled his belt from his jeans and dropped his shirt on the floor. He was stretched out on his bed for a good minute before his phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"Is this Dean?"

He smiled a little at the female voice that came through the phone. "It is. How can I help you?" He sat up.

"It's Amy, Cassie's friend, got the number from her."

"I thought you ended up with Sam." He smirked and then realized the bed next to him was empty and the blankets rumpled.

"That's not why I'm calling." She paused. "How's Sam?"

He stood, concern shoving the need for sleep out of the way. "Why?"

"Nothing serious, we just left early, said he had a headache. I was just wondering if he got back all right. I didn't mean to worry you."

He walked towards the closed bathroom door.

"He made it back." He sighed, no need to panic. "Thanks."

"Sure. Goodnight." She hung up the phone.

Dean pushed open the door and could make out the dark silhouette of his brother. Sam was propped between the wall and the edge of the tub. His knees were drawn up and his forehead was rested on his folded arms.

Dean reached for the light.

"Don't." Sam's voice was rough.

Dean stopped. "Sam?"

"Just, don't turn on the light." He whispered, his words slow and exhausted.

Dean sighed, he was too sober, too exhausted to deal with this now. "I can't see what's wrong in the dark, Sammy."

Sam didn't offer any suggestions. Dean slipped from the room, turned on the lamp between the two beds and returned to his brother. Sam raised his eyes to his brother. It took Dean about two seconds to put the final pieces together. Sam's pale face, his dilated eyes, his need for dark.

Dean knelt next to his brother. "Why didn't you say anything, Sam?"

"It _was_ just a headache." He buried his face in his arms again.

"Did you take something?"

He shivered slightly. "Mmhmm."

"What do you want to do, Sammy?"

Every movement, any movement made his head pound, like a couple of baseball hall of famers hitting homeruns with his head. "Nothing." He whispered.

Dean was never very good at doing nothing. "Let's get you back to bed, for starters."

Sam shook his head and instantly regretted it. He withdrew into the pain, it blocked everything else out. Dean saw him tense and press his head against his arms in an attempt to equalize the pressure.

Dean rested his hand on the back of Sam's neck and squeezed. Sam relaxed a little under the pressure. Dean could feel the slight tremor in his younger brother's body and knew he was in pain.

"You want to stay here, Sammy?" Dean's voice was low, quiet.

"Yeah." Sam breathed.

"We can do that." He muttered.

Dean stood and slipped from the room. He returned with a blanket he pulled from the bed and a bottle of pills. Sam watched him return with unfocused eyes. Dean carefully sat Sam forward and draped the blanket behind him. Sam was passive with exhaustion and pain, but the blanket helped a little.

"Go to bed, Dean." He muttered and fought back the nausea.

"I'm fine here."

Sam closed his eyes. "You're just as exhausted as I am."

Dean almost missed the words. He almost argued that he knew Sam hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep on any given night over the past two weeks, but he let it go. Dean cursed himself for not seeing this coming, he knew Sam was hardly sleeping and they were both pushing hard. He should have anticipated that it would all catch up with Sam in the end.

"Stop." Sam muttered.

Dean turned to his brother. "Stop what?"

"Not your fault." The words were muffled from under Sam's arms.

"What, you can read my thoughts now?"

Sam looked up, his eyes revealed the pain and weariness, but he smiled a little anyway. "Your thoughts are the last place I want to go." He winced. "Just know you."

He leaned his head back and pressed his hands against his eyes. Dean hated that there was really nothing he could do.

He filled a glass of water. "Want to try taking something else?"

"Yeah." Sam breathed.

Dean pressed two pills into Sam's hand, guided his brother's hand to his mouth and did the same with the glass of water. Sam groaned slightly and slid down the wall a little. He folded his arms across his stomach and swallowed.

They both silently sat on the bathroom floor and let the minutes fall by. Dean suspected that his minutes were passing quicker that Sam's, but that was another thing he couldn't fix. It had been a while since Sam had been sidelined this hard by a migraine, long enough that both of them had started to hope that it was the end of the worst.

Sam leaned forward, the blanket fell from his shoulders and he dove for the toilet. Dean was there in half a second, a hand on the back of Sam's neck as he retched. Sam's face paled further and he shook under his brother's hand. After uncounted minutes that seemed closer to hours, Sam slumped back against the wall.

Dean knelt in front of Sam and gently rested his hand on his younger brother's head. "I'll be right back, Sammy." His voice low.

He stood and snagged the waist basket on his way out. As much as Sam hated to admit it, he wanted Dean to come back. Yeah, he could take care of himself, but Dean being there meant that he didn't have to do it alone. Dean switched off the lamp between the beds and let the light filter in from the parking lot.

Dean returned and knelt in front of Sam. "I'm going to move you to bed, you'll rest better."

"Don't want to move." His voice broke slightly and he hated that it did.

"Just got to move a little, and I'll help."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Okay."

A half smile of reassurance flickered across Dean's face before he gently helped Sam to his feet. Sam wavered, but Dean was ready for that. He could feel Sam's muscles, tight with pain, as he guided his brother towards the bed. Sam held his breath for most of it, one less movement he had to endure. He sighed as Dean eased him into bed.

"How'r you doing?" Dean's hand rested on Sam's shoulder.

"Fantastic." The word slurred over his tongue.

"Sammy."

He turned on his stomach and buried his head in his arms and the pillow. "Not so great."

Dean pulled the blanket over Sam. "Get some sleep." He sat on the other side of the bed.

Sam felt Dean's hand on the back of his neck as he worked the tension from the muscles. If he only focused on that and breathing, then everything was a little better. Dean felt Sam relax and then his breathing evened and slowed as Sam finally slept.

Dean leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.


	3. Moving On

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Sorry for taking so long to update. Things got busy and my own migraines decided to make an appearance for a few days (like today and 2 days ago, and I had no Winchesters to sit with me) so that kept the story from being written. Also, I changed the plot, I never really knew where it was going anyway……so now it's sort of a 'three-shot'. I might pick up the plot later, but for now, I think it's done.

Thanks for the reviews.

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam woke in the dark hours of early morning. Dean was stretched out on his own bed, the blanket half on the floor. Sam slowly rolled to his back, his head still throbbed, but it was better as long as he didn't move too much. What he remembered from the past day were blurred and hard to focus on.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up and felt the room spin lazily around him. He swallowed back nausea and pressed his fingers against his temple. Slowly he stood and walked towards the bathroom. He didn't bother with the light, both for his sake and to keep Dean from waking up, if he was even still asleep. Sam leaned heavily on the counter and poured himself a glass of water. He splashed some cold water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair so he didn't looked like he had been mugged.

As he stumbled over a bag, back to bed, he realized that he wouldn't be able to sleep any more. Even though his brain felt like it was wrapped in think fog, there was still enough distraction from pain to keep sleep away. He didn't feel like laying for hours on the motel bed, so he pulled on his shoes. He scribbled a quick note for Dean, 'Went for a cup of coffee –Sam' and slipped out the door.

He found the card in his pocket with Amy's number and fished out his phone. As he walked, he texted her his number; maybe she'd call sometime.

The horizon was almost starting to become light and the stars had faded. He wished that he had grabbed a few pills on his way out, but he didn't think of it. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he expected it to be a message from Dean, he flipped open the phone. 'How are you feeling? –Amy'

He smiled and texted back. 'Going for coffee the diner.'

A message responded. 'See you there in 10'

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued down the silent road towards the glowing lights of the 24-hour diner and truck stop. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, but didn't spike his headache like he feared. He took a booth towards the back and ordered a cup of coffee.

The waitress, one of those stereotypical truck stop waitresses that have the 'I've smoked for the past 40 years' voice and the personality of a brick wall, brought him a cup of strong, black, not particularly good coffee.

Amy came in not long after and sat down across from him. She ordered the same, but added sugar.

"So." He took a drink. "Why are you up so early, I didn't wake you, did I?"

She shook her head, smiled. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same." He smiled.

She could see that he was still a little pale and his hands shook slightly. They didn't talk much, instead they were content just being in the other person's company. It was one of those relationships where both people suddenly find themselves with someone that they don't have to pretend for, it's not love so much as compatibility.

"How's your head?"

He shrugged. "Better." He took a drink. "We're probably moving on later today, or tomorrow."

"I know." She smirked. "Funny thing about phones is they work from any distance."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They spent the better part of two hours, the conversation anything and everything between weather and favorite things to the meaning of life and philosophy. The sun rose and cast everything in a bright, clean light. Sam's phone vibrated and he saw a message from Dean. 'At the diner?'

Sam looked up at Amy. "One sec." He typed, 'yes'

'You okay?'

'Yes.'

'Ready to go in 2 hours?'

Sam paused, looked up at Amy. "We're leaving in two hours, I guess."

She nodded. "I work in two hours, so it's a good way to part. Both of us going on towards our lives."

"I wish there was more time."

He took her hand and she smiled. "We'll just have to make sure that our paths cross again. I'll try if you will."

He smiled. "I can do that."

The next two hours passed much like the ones before it. All too soon, but yet seeming like the right time, Dean pulled up in front of the diner. Sam and Amy stood, a quick hug and they went their separate ways.

Once Dean and Sam were back on the road, weariness washed over Sam. His head still hurt, but the coffee had helped some.

Dean glanced over. "So, you and Amy?"

"We just talked." Sam sighed. "We might hook up sometime later."

Dean could still see that Sam wasn't top form, but if he said he could travel, then everything was a little better. Sam relaxed and rested his head against the window.

"Good for you." Dean muttered, even though he knew Sam had fallen asleep.

It wasn't the break that they had planned, but it had been good nonetheless. Dean figured that all the evil out there could wait one more day at least, no need to rush back into things, not yet. He glanced over at Sam, smiled and turned up the music a little. Right now all that mattered was the road ahead and that was enough.


End file.
